I love meditations and vibrations of my skin in the cold grocery store aisle.
Life is good. Even crying I love.
Ear massage by my tears
swing down to the jawbone
to trace tracks of tears so slow….
Poetry
Temperature Patrol
I just slid out of bounds like I’m a softball player
couldn’t catch a ball without a somber prayer
that used to be my vehicle of self esteem
hardly put a put-put in the sputnik of my dreams
Bless Us Confess Us (2005)
Magic in plastic
we toss and we spoof like it
won’t come around in groundwaters,
pots and crops,
sons and our daughters’ stools,
spools of thread
Picture a holiday
Picture a holiday
Where you’re exiled from the news
Able to adopt a life of reverence and
Paid to pen the script.
